--14--

i

The backyard of the small house on Maplewood Drive was hushed and still; not even the smallest breath of wind whispered through the barren trees. The national weather service predicted more rain before the night was over, but for now—for this brief moment in time—it was as if they had passed into the eye of the storm.

The deathly stillness only served to make Mandy feel even more ill at ease. At home in Michigan, a calm such as this signaled trouble. Even on days when the big lake was smooth as glass, there was always a small current, rippling below the surface. It comforted her somehow; where there was movement, there was life.

Standing in soft glow of the kitchen light, she closed her eyes and let her mind wander. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost convince herself that she was back in that cozy cabin with Annie, smell the pungent odor of burning logs and toasting marshmallows. Annie dearly loved their ritual Thursday night dinners roasted over a fire in the big stone hearth. Hot dogs with home-made buns, a gooey concoction of graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows for dessert . . .

But her comfortable cabin didn't exist anymore. Not only had Brimstone taken away the life she'd had, they'd destroyed the life she'd built.

"Amanda? Are you . . .?"

"I'm fine, Lee." She shoved her hands roughly into her pockets to hide her clenched fists. "Or I will be, if—"

"When, Amanda." He didn't even try to hide the huskiness in his voice. "When we get the kids back."

She smiled sadly. "Always looking for the silver lining, huh?"

"Something like that. Now come on," he led her into the den, "you need to get off your feet. Sometimes rest is—"

"Sometimes rest is the best weapon of all," she finished, as she sank down onto the couch. "Yeah, I know."

She felt the sofa cushions dip as he sat beside her, and she turned her head toward the French doors, away from the disappointment she knew waited for her in Lee's eyes. Why could she remember useless trivia pertaining to her job and nothing at all about her personal life? She'd felt so hopeful earlier, when the snippet of memory returned. But no matter how hard she pushed, her mind remained a blank.

"It'll happen, Amanda," Lee said, understanding what she couldn't bring herself to say. "You just need to give it time."

"Time is the one thing that's in short supply right now, don't you think?" She buried her face in her hands. "If only I'd let Dr. Quidd work on me this morning—"

"And what purpose would that have served?" He pulled her hands away and tilted her head so that she would have to look at him. "There's no guarantee that the drugs would have yielded any information, and a very high probability that they might have locked your memories away from you forever. I discussed this option with Claudia early on. She agrees with me—she's against it."

"But if there's even a chance . . ."

He frowned. "Okay, suppose you did submit to the needles, and we gleaned some information. We have no idea if it would be of any help to Phillip, Jamie and Annie. And you certainly wouldn't be in any condition to help them after an Alpha One—trust me on that. I'd much rather have my partner's faculties intact at the moment."

She tilted her head. "Even without my memories?"

"Yes." He smiled softly. "You've always had good instincts, even before you had formal training."

She looked away. "It's going to take more than instincts to save the children."

"Maybe the interrogators will get something useful out of Mrs. Marsten." Catapulting from the couch, he began to pace. "Damn it! I just don't get it. Marsten, of all people. How could she betray . . ." He set his jaw until it looked as if it might crack.

"She was a mother who desperately wanted to save her son's life," Mandy said, her tone meant to soothe but not quite hitting the mark. "Brimstone's experimental drug provided her with the means to do that."

"As well as the means to keep us both in a living hell for five years," Lee said, slamming his fist impotently against his thigh.

"But Brimstone duped her as well. Mr. Melrose said that she didn't know their real agenda—she simply gave them access to my Agency file."

"And that's supposed to make us feel better?" Lee's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "What she did was even worse. She provided them the means and opportunity to set this whole thing in motion. Made us think you were dead, so that no one would look for . . ." He gulped in a large breath, then slowly let it out.

"She probably thought she didn't have any other choice."

Lee's expression darkened into a thunderous frown. "There's always a choice," he ground out. "She just made the wrong damn one!"

"We don't know what was going through her mind, Lee," she said, trying to defuse the situation. He was obviously making superhuman efforts to keep his anger at bay. "Desperate people sometimes do desperate things when they think there's no other way out."

"She could have reported Brimstone when they first made contact," he insisted. "If we'd known what they were up to, we might have been able to find a way to stop all of this, and save Dan in the bargain. At least we would have had a chance—"

"I guess 'a chance' wasn't good enough for her—not with her child's life hanging in the balance." Sighing, Mandy moved toward the bookcase on the far wall, absently twisting a button on her blouse. "I wonder what she thought when I suddenly turned up? She must have been so frightened—"

"Frightened for herself, you mean."

"I think you're selling her short. According to Mr. Melrose, she was intending to come forward—"

"Maybe so. I suppose that could explain her strange phone call last night," he added, almost to himself. "She made it seem as if there was a Zulu Blue emergency over here—"

"Lee . . ." Her eyes widened. "Do you think she knew that the children were going to be kidnapped?"

"You mean that she thought it was actually going down last night?" She nodded. "I don't know—she certainly did seem to be in a panic when she delivered Billy's message."

"You see, she was trying to help."

"Amanda . . ." Slanting his brows into a puzzled frown, Lee crossed to her. "How can you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Defend that woman, after everything she helped put you through?"

She shrugged. "I don't know . . . maybe because I can see things a little bit more clearly. To me, she's only a name without a face. It doesn't seem quite as personal as it does to you, I guess."

He snorted. "You may have hit on the one advantage to losing your memory."

Cocking her head, she regarded him closely. "Tell me something—are you so angry because Mrs. Marsten betrayed us or because Brimstone might possibly have come up with something that actually helps people?"

"If Brimstone's damned drug could help Dan Marsten, then naturally I'm glad," he said, a little too quickly. "But there's no excuse good enough to commit treason. How do you think Dan's going to feel when he finds out what his mother's done?"

She raised an eyebrow. "If the life of someone you loved was on the line, what would you do, Lee?"

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Okay, I see your point," he muttered. "But don't ask me to overlook her role in this. She allowed them to switch your medical records so that we'd believe you were dead. The bottom line is, whether she knew it or not, her actions handed you over to the enemy to face god-knows-what kind of torture. It was a death sentence, Amanda, any way you slice it. I can't forgive that."

"I know." Mandy tenderly rubbed his shoulder. "I'm not saying that I can forgive her, either—just that I understand her." She plucked a framed picture from the bookshelf and lovingly traced the smiling faces of her sons with the tip of her finger. It was an old photo; they both looked young and vulnerable. "I'd do anything to get Annie and the boys back," she said, an odd huskiness creeping into her voice. "Even if it meant making a deal with the devil—"

"No, Amanda." Taking her by the arms, he shook her lightly. "Don't even think about it. Trading you to Brimstone is not the answer."

Mandy set the picture back in its place of honor. "But if it's the only way—"

"There's no guarantee that we'd get the kids back, even if we . . ." He glanced apprehensively at the command center in the dining room. "Even if we did violate the D.O.D.'s orders and proceeded with the trade," he finished in a low voice. "No, there's got to be another way."

"And if there isn't?" she asked, pulling away.

"There's always another way." Catching her eye, he added softly, "My very talented partner taught me that."

"I don't feel particularly talented at the moment. I just feel . . . helpless." She squeezed her hands into fists, so tightly that even her short nails dug into her palms. "This mess is my fault. I'm the one who used the Thorton's Repression technique incorrectly and blew away my entire life. Guess those instincts of mine weren't working so well then, huh?"

"A-man-da . . ."

She shook her head. "No, don't try to spare my feelings. I'm the one who screwed up. If turning myself over to Brimstone would make things right again, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"If you're going to think that way, then blame me as well—for not seeing through Brimstone's plot and coming after you." He tilted his head. "Or do you?"

"Do I what?" she asked in a small voice.

"Blame me?"

She bit down hard on her bottom lip. "No," she answered shakily, "of course I don't. You couldn't have known—"

"Then I refuse to let you blame yourself. Brimstone did this to both of us, and sacrificing yourself as some bizarre penance for their actions won't change that. Besides," he added in a softer voice when she stubbornly remained silent, "what point will it serve if we get the kids back and lose you in the process? They need you. I need—"

He stopped and abruptly looked away. Mandy could see the tension in every line of his body, mirroring her own. "It's just so hard," she murmured. "Having the boys in danger is bad enough, but Annie . . ." She choked on the rest of the words. "She's never even spent a night away from me . . ."

"I know, Amanda." He turned slowly back to her, a slight tremor running through his voice. "I know."

Suddenly, blindly, he reached for her. As his chest heaved, she automatically pulled him against her, as if her body knew something her mind didn't. "It's okay," she murmured over and over, "it'll be okay." His body melded to hers as she rubbed gentle circles on his back. She could feel the tension begin to slowly drain from him . . .

Her mind was so focused on his grief, that the first wave of her own despair caught her by surprise. She struggled to break away, to regain some measure of control, but he refused to let her go, even as she beat impotent fists against his back. Her physical assault dissolved into an emotional one as a series of sobs, each more powerful than the last, tore through her. He bore the second onslaught as stoically as the first, continuing to hold her until her cries quieted into soft hiccups.

"I'm sorry," she murmured into his chest when at last she was able. "I didn't mean to . . ." Pulling away, she looked up into his eyes. "It's just that she's only four years old . . . a baby still . . ."

Lee smoothed the tousled strands of hair from her forehead and softly cupped her cheeks. "I understand exactly how you feel," he said, using his thumbs to wipe away the last of her tears. "But we have to stay strong now, if we're going to help our children."

Biting her lip, she nodded. "You're right." Taking a deep breath, she folded her emotions and tucked them neatly back inside her. "I won't fall apart again," she said in a voice that was calm and controlled, "you can count on that."

The corners of his mouth attempted a smile as he leaned closer. "I always have. Amanda—"

"Scarecrow. . ."

As the voice from the dining room broke their intimacy, they jumped apart almost guiltily. "What is it, Beaman?" Lee snapped, quickly straightening his shoulders.

Beaman stood on the threshold of the den, looking almost embarrassed. "Billy's on the line for you," he said, handing Lee a boxy-looking cellular phone. "You weren't answering your page."

"Uh, yeah, thanks."

Lee grabbed the phone, addressing his boss with an economy of words that showed he was firmly back in agent-mode. Mandy watched anxiously, her heart thudding in her chest until he handed the phone back to Beaman and turned to her. "It's good news, Amanda," he told her in a low voice. "Finally."

"Does that mean . . .?"

He nodded. "Marsten was able to give us a location on Brimstone's people. If her intel checks out—"

"Then we may have found our children," she finished in a whisper. His tentative smile was all the encouragement she needed, and she moved back into his waiting arms. "Please, God, let it be in time."

Her tremulous prayed seemed to hang in the air.

"It will be," Lee murmured. "It has to be."

ii

"Hey, Phillip . . ." Jamie blew out a couple of shallow breaths. "I don't feel so good."

His brother ducked his head out from beneath the cot, where he'd been working to free a loose wire from the stiff metal coils of the bedsprings. "You don't look so good, either." He paused to study Jamie's pale complexion more closely. "You aren't going to be sick, are you?"

Jamie held his roiling stomach. "I hope not."

"Good. Because you look just like you did that time Dad took us to the Orioles game and you ate all that—"

"For God's sake, Phillip, give me break. This is not the time to talk about peanuts and hot dogs."

Phillip grinned. "Yeah, I suppose not. Maybe you should lie down or something," he said, scooting back under the cot.

"Yeah, a nap sounds pretty good right now." He was so sleepy; he could barely keep his eyes open. "I'll just rest for a minute—"

"Don't do that, worm brain!" Phillip rolled back out again and looked at Jamie in alarm.

Jamie pried his eyes open. "Why not?" he managed to ask through a deep yawn. "There's time. Unless your superpowers kick in and you can rip that wire out of the bedsprings, we sure as heck aren't goin' anywhere any time soon."

"Hey, don't worry about me," Phillip grumbled, obviously affronted. "I can take care of my part of the plan. Just be sure you can take care of yours."

"If you get the wire loose, I can pick the lock." Jamie couldn't help but smirk. "Lee's friend Leatherneck showed me some pretty neat tricks the last time he dropped by. I've been practicing." Yawning again, he closed his eyes, a smile curving his lips. Lee had been pretty steamed at Leatherneck for giving him . . . what had he called it? Oh yeah, an encapsulated escape and evasion course. Jamie's smile widened. "It'll be a piece of cake . . ."

"Jamie . . . Jamie!" A rough shake disrupted the fuzzy warmth flowing through him. "Wake up!"

He groaned softly. "Phillip, leave me alone."

"You can't go to sleep." His brother's voice was firmer now, to match the tight grasp on his shoulder. "If you have a concussion, you might never wake up."

"Who told you that?" he murmured groggily.

"Grandma, I think." Tension crept into his tone, and his voice rose. "What does it matter where I heard it? We can't take the chance—"

"Okay, okay." Jamie shook off his fatigue and dragged himself into a sitting position. "I'll stay awake, if it means that much to you." He gave his brother a friendly shove. "It's nice to know you care."

"Yeah, well . . ." Phillip suddenly looked unusually ill at ease. "I told Lee I'd take care of you and . . ."

His brother's eyebrows arched as his words trailed off, and Jamie quickly followed his gaze. Annie's solemn hazel eyes were open wide and staring at both of them.

"Hey there, kiddo," Jamie said slowly, shooting a look at his brother. "When did you wake up?"

Instead of answering, she inched away into the farthest corner of her bed, pulled her knees up to her chest and began to suck her thumb.

Struggling to his feet, Jamie followed Phillip over to Annie's bed. "It's okay, Munchkin," he murmured soothingly. "Phillip and I are right here. We're your big brothers, and we'll take care of you. I promise."

Her eyes widened, and she sucked her thumb more vigorously. Jamie and Phillip exchanged another worried glance. "Annie, honey," Phillip began, but a deep voice cut him off.

"Well, well, isn't this a touching scene."

Startled, Phillip jumped to his feet, and Jamie moved closer to Annie.

"It's nice to see Mrs. King's brood bonding at long last," the man continued with a chuckle.

Jamie felt little Annie's chest heave in a silent sob. Phillip noticed, too; his hands tightened into fists against his thigh.

"What do you want?" his brother demanded.

Though Phillip's voice sounded strong enough to fool most people, Jamie could sense the panic beneath his show of bravado. He didn't know what scared him more—the possibility that something bad was about to happen to them or the knowledge that his normally intrepid older brother shared his terror.

The tall kidnapper shrugged. "I thought you might be getting a little hungry, that's all. But if I'm mistaken—"

"We could eat something," Phillip said in a rush. Jamie tugged on his sleeve, but his brother brushed his hand away.

The man's broad smile crinkled the birthmark on his right cheek. "That's more like it. Bring the tray in," he ordered, crooking his finger at the door. "We wouldn't want to send you back to your parents in anything but the best condition."

As the burly man who'd taken Phillip away earlier trudged into the room, Jamie drew Annie against him, so she wouldn't be frightened. Popping her thumb into her mouth, she closed her eyes and sucked more forcefully than before. "When can we go home?" Jamie asked defiantly, the calm tone of his voice almost a surprise.

The tall kidnapper turned his eyes on him. They were almost as dark as his hair, and, despite his bluster, Jamie felt a chill go through him. "Arrangements are being made. In the meantime," he jerked his head at the tray his man had deposited on an empty cot, "enjoy."

As the door clicked back into place behind the kidnappers, Phillip and Jamie both heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God," Phillip said, making a beeline for the food. "I'm starving."

"Phillip . . ." A small knot of fear twisted in Jamie's stomach. "I don't know if we should. What if it's poisoned or drugged or something?"

Phillip's hand stopped in midair. "They wouldn't do that, would they?" he asked, carefully examining the sandwich in his hand.

Jamie shrugged. "You tell me. You're the one who spends all his time at the movies."

Phillip let out a groan. "You're right, that's exactly the kind of thing the bad guys would do—we shouldn't chance it." He tilted his head, as a happier thought occurred to him. "But the water should be okay. Look, the seals haven't been tampered with."

Snatching up a couple of bottles of Evian, Phillip came over to where Jamie still sat with Annie. Twisting off the cap, he took a swig and waited. "Yeah, it's just plain water, all right," he said after a few minutes of breathless silence. "Go on, it's okay."

Jamie nodded and opened his own bottle. Until the cool water moistened his parched throat, he hadn't realized just how thirsty he'd been. "Here, Annie," he urged his sister. "Have something to drink—you'll feel better."

With a little more urging the little girl slowly removed her thumb from her mouth and took a small sip of water. "There," Phillip said, adopting his most jovial tone as Annie looked at him with watery eyes. "Isn't that better?"

Annie shook her head, sending her tousled hair flying. "I . . . want . . . my . . . mommy." The words became a litany as she continued to sob.

iii

Replete in field gear, Lee hovered outside the door to Amanda's bedroom. Though the dark jumpsuit was standard issue for so-called black bag operations, its starkness lent a little too much reality to the situation. That the stakes were high on this mission was understood; he just didn't want his unorthodox dress to remind Amanda exactly how high.

Still, he couldn't leave without seeing her one more time. She was already upset enough that she'd been sidelined. He owed her one last update before the team departed . . . didn't he?

He shook his head in disgust; his innate ability to evade the obvious held fast even now.

Knocking, he opened the door and walked in hesitantly, his eyes searching the empty room. "Amanda? It's almost time . . ."

She appeared at the bathroom door, a wet compress against her forehead. "Another one of those killer headaches," she offered with a wan smile. "I guess you were right after all; I wouldn't be much use in the field under these conditions."

He pressed his lips together. "So you're not angry anymore?"

"I didn't say that." She tossed the wash-cloth into the sink and folded her arms across her chest. "I may understand why you want me out of the line of fire," she shook her head carefully as she stepped toward him, "but I don't have to like it."

Lee nodded, watching her closely. She looked particularly frail in the muted light of the table lamp, as if a stiff breeze might blow her over. One more reason for her to stay safely at home. The second wave of the storm front was passing through, turning the weather ugly again. The wind whipped with a fury that rattled windowpanes, driving the cold, heavy rain almost sideways.

He walked slowly over to where she stood by the foot of the bed. "You know I'll do everything I can to make this mission a success."

"Mission?" She stared up at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "You sound so clinical . . ."

"It's the only way I know to . . ." He sighed. "Distancing myself is the only way I can get through this."

"How long do you think—"

"As long as it takes?" He shrugged lightly. "I'll get word to you as soon as—"

"I know. Lee . . ." She stepped closer to him. "Be careful, okay? I know you're worried about me, but it goes both ways. This feels so wrong somehow . . . you going out there on your own. I can't help feeling like I should be doing . . . something." She blew out a long breath. "Even if I don't know what that something is."

"I guess there are some feelings you can't repress," he murmured.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with emotion. "Yeah, there are."

"Amanda . . ." His hoarse whisper broke the silence. "There's something I need to say to you."

"What?" she asked simply.

"I owe you an apology for the way I behaved this morning. You know," he continued, when she looked at him curiously, "that stuff I said about Stevenson being the mole."

She twisted her hands and nodded. "He's a good guy, Lee. He really wouldn't do anything to hurt Annie—"

"Or you." He edged away from her. "Yeah, I realize that. I was wrong about him. I'm sorry for . . . well, for everything."

"Lee . . ." As she stepped closer to him, there was a look in her deep brown eyes that Lee couldn't quite fathom. For a moment, he thought she might actually touch his cheek, the way she'd been wont to do when they were making up after an argument. "That's not the only thing you were wrong about, you know," she told him, her words barely a whisper.

"What wasn't?" he choked out, his voice thick.

"Brad and I . . . we never . . . I never . . ." Wringing her hands, she turned away. "I've never slept with Brad," she said in a rush. "I know you'll probably find it hard to believe that we could be together for three years and never actually make love, but it's true."

"Actually, Amanda, knowing you as I do, I think I can." Despite the gravity of their situation, his mood was almost buoyant.

She pivoted, gaping at him with wide eyes. "So we never . . . either?"

"No, we never . . ." He grinned. "Well, not until our wedding night, anyway."

Her cheeks flushed, and she said somewhat breathlessly, "Oh."

"Amanda . . ." Lee inched closer. "If you don't mind my asking, why—"

"Why didn't I sleep with Brad?" She shrugged as she trudged to the window. "I can't really say why." She fixed her gaze on the street below, as if she might find the answer there. "I was certainly lonely enough, and I did . . . do . . . care about him. But every time we got close, something stopped me. Brad was really patient about it; he didn't want to pressure me into doing something I wasn't ready to . . ." She glanced back at him over her shoulder. "The doctors in Michigan came up with this theory that I'd been abused by a previous lover, so—"

"Oh, Amanda."

"I know, I know . . ." Crossing to him, she reached for his hand. "But it did make some sort of sense, given my physical condition at the time, and the memory loss . . ." She squeezed his fingers. "Something about the scenario didn't quite ring true to me. Given the circumstances, it didn't seem fair to commit to a life with someone new. At least, not until I had some idea of who I'd been . . ."

His breath caught, but he had to ask. "And now that you know?"

She licked her lips. "Let's get through the next twenty-four hours and take it from there, okay?"

"I'm sorry," he said brusquely. "I didn't mean to push—"

"Scarecrow." Francine cracked open the door. "Everything's set. Billy needs you downstairs for a final briefing before we go."

"I'll be right there." As the door clicked shut, he drew a deep breath and turned back to Amanda. She was standing so close to him that her loose wisps of hair tickled his cheek. It would be so easy to close the last gap between them, to pull her into his arms and cover her mouth with his, one last time. So terribly easy . . .

He pulled away with an effort. "I, uh, guess I need to see Billy."

"I know. Please Lee . . ." Her voice shook as she added softly, "Be careful."

"Whatever happens," he said roughly, "I promise you I'll get our children back."

"I know you will." Her steady brown eyes met his. "But get yourself back, too, okay?"

He nodded and walked to the door, each long stride taking him farther away from her. One hand on the doorknob, he paused and looked back. "About last night . . . you know, what almost happened at my place . . ." He cleared his throat. "If we hadn't been interrupted by that phone call, would you have . . .?"

Her eyes caught his again. Without a trace of hesitation, she whispered a heartfelt, "Oh, yes."